


Cold

by knightinabsentia



Category: The Girl from the Well - Rin Chupeco
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26897290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinabsentia/pseuds/knightinabsentia
Summary: Ki is always so cold. A good kind of cold, though.
Relationships: Okiku & Tark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this tiny thing perhaps five years ago. Why not?

Tark kept his gaze down, focused on Okiku’s hands in her lap, and wordlessly took one into his own.

“You’re always so cold, Ki. Your hands.”

She didn’t respond, which he expected, but she also didn’t react in any way that told him to back off . . . or continue.

His right hand trailed lightly upwards, coming to rest on her arm. His eyes followed his hand’s path, refusing to meet Ki’s own. “Your arms.”

He held onto her hand, waiting for signs of tensing, the slight retreat from his loose hand, but it never came.

His hand continued its path up her arm, graced the curve of her neck, her jaw, and paused. “Your cheek.”

His eyes shifted to meet her own, to see the answer. Her brows were furrowed slightly, not out of anger, but a silent question. One in which he didn’t know what was being asked. Instead, he focused on her eyes, her not less-than-life but more-than-dead eyes. The way they revealed nothing and told him to figure it out himself, because he should know already. In a way, he did.

His eyes slipped from hers, down the ridge of her nose, hesitated on her naturally slightly down-turned lips. His mind wasn’t telling him to but he was leaning, mere inches away when he whispered, “I wonder . . . How do I feel to you?”

He closed the distance, felt the familiar and comforting chill; familiar yet different, as he’d never felt it like this before, in his chest, his veins, on his lips. The cold was not unpleasant, though; it was the immediate relief coming into air-conditioning from a hot, humid summer day; it was the enveloping cool of diving headfirst into a pond, deep and fathomless.

And while his heart raced and his blood pounded in his ears, there was no indication from Ki, no secret given away by body language. She wasn’t completely unresponsive though. She leaned into him but did little else, and Tark could respect that - he’d be just as uncertain if he’d had 300 years off the whole human interaction gig.

Slowly, he pulled back, opening his eyes to find hers still closed.

“Warm,” she muttered, opening her eyes to stare at their still-clasped hands.

He blinked, having forgotten his mindlessly asked question from only moments before.

“You feel warm,” she continued. “Your hands.”

The cold traveled up his arm, his neck, face, to the corner of his mouth.

“Your arms. Your neck, your jaw, your cheek.”

She looked at him.

“Your smile.”

And never had the cold felt so comfortable.


End file.
